


Pants, Cheeks & Other Red Things

by greeneggs101, Violet_Janou



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggs101/pseuds/greeneggs101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Janou/pseuds/Violet_Janou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From long johns to pants. In which red becomes John's colour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants, Cheeks & Other Red Things

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Red Pants Contest by fuckyajohnlockfanfic and reapersun.

John was many things: brave, witty, strong, charming, and handsome. But right now he was cold. Damn, fucking cold. 

“It’s cold.” John shivered as he tried to get warm through pilling on his many layers on as possible. The hotel room they were in had no heat, and his ‘winter jacket’ quite cut it in the Russian weather. 

“I didn’t decide on our current abode, our client did.” 

“Then your client is a cheapskate.” John hissed as his teeth chattered and he slipped on his third pair of socks. He was going to die of frost bite, he could feel it coming. 

“That may be true but they have a wonderfully interesting case!” Sherlock told John. 

John moaned, he swore he could see his breath. “I need coffee… or something warm.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he stood up from the chair, “If I was to get you something to keep you warm would you stop complaining?” he asked. 

John laughed, “And this coming from the king of complaining!” John said as he narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. 

Sherlock said nothing as he left John to shiver his way to the only bed and crawl under the covers. But John felt as though he were made of ice. He then tried running in place to get his blood flowing, but it only made him sweat which, in turn, made him colder than he already was. 

John finally resigned himself to consider replacing with “the knowledge” that Sherlock had just left him there to freeze to his death. He crawled back into bed, closed his eyes, and tried to think of someplace warm as his teeth chattered. John nearly jumped out of the bed when the door burst open. He opened his eyes to see a long red thing hurtling towards him. 

Moving his hands out from under the blanket John grabbed the mysterious gift and then looked back at his friend. “What the hell is his?” he asked. 

“Well, the woman in the shop called them long johns. And since your name is John it clearly was an obvious choice, and for your follow up question about the color being red.” Sherlock told him with a slight smile, “it was the only color they had.”

John rolled his eyes and picked up the shirt and bottom combo. “You know that just because the underwear and I share the same name doesn’t mean that I’m meant to wear them.” 

“Certainly.” Sherlock said to John. “Long johns were invented in the 17th century Nova Scotia and later became popular in England. The term long john may have derived from a boxer who wore a uniform similar to a long john. Either way, it’s a lot warmer than what you’ve got on now.” 

John gave a long sigh crawling out of the cocoon of blankets he had wrapped himself up in and headed into the bathroom to change. 

After slipping them on John grudgingly admitted that they were warm. He slipped his jeans, button down and jumper back on not needing the several layers like he did before. When he emerged Sherlock was sitting on the chair with his face buried in his mobile. 

“I take it by your silence you are warmer now?” 

“Yes.” John said as he set his extra cloths back into his suitcase. “I take it by your mobile we have a lead on the case?” 

Sherlock sprang up from the chair, grabbed his locking picking case along with his gloves, he shoved them into his pockets with a smile as he strode from the room. 

“Is that a yes?” John asked grabbing his gloves and hat and gloves before he dashed after Sherlock. 

The case took them all over Northern Russia and though John had to chase suspects, climb fences and had a close run in with a half frozen river, he didn’t once shiver. 

~~~

John couldn’t figure it out. How on earth could the train company lose his luggage when he only traveled from London to Edinburgh? 

“This is bloody ridiculous!” hissed John as he walked with Sherlock out of the train station. They had spoken with the manager and the bottom line was that if they found it they would send it to his home address at 221B. 

“It’s not like you can’t replace a toothbrush and a razor.” Sherlock told him as he held onto his bag. 

“No, I just didn’t want to have to go out and purchase those items, when the ones I had were perfectly serviceable.” 

Sherlock raised his arm to hail a taxi. He glanced at John, trying hard to be sympathetic to his needs. “I would offer you my clothes-”

“They wouldn’t fit,” John said as they got into the taxi. Sherlock gave him the directions to their hotel they had booked. “I’m not so worried about clothes.” John admitted, with a meaningful look. Sherlock stared at him perplexed. “Really Sherlock?!” John asked him. 

“What?” 

“Pants, Sherlock! I have no pants!” 

Sherlock sighed. “Fine, we’ll stop off and get some.” Sherlock had the cabbie pull over to the nearest outlet mall. Sherlock waited as John grabbed his wallet and ran inside. He picked up the necessities first and then made his way back to where the clothes and underpants were located. 

John glanced at the racks; he didn’t want to spend too much for they didn’t intend to be here but one night, two at the most. Looking over the full priced items John wandered to the sales section. He groaned inwardly as the only pair of boxers in his size were a rather unfortunate color. But he grabbed them anyway and headed to the till. He just hoped Sherlock didn’t see them. John knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did. 

The unfortunate bit of being best mates with the world’s best consulting detective was that nothing escaped him for long. Surprisingly, however, Sherlock only smirked as he pulled out the bright red boxers from the bag. “Really John?” 

“Shut up they were cheap.” 

“What happened to-” Sherlock was cut off as John turned to look at him while they got somewhat settled into their hotel room.

“Not a word Sherlock. Not a single word from you or I will make your clothes disappear as well.” 

Sherlock grinned briefly before dashing out the door, and John was quick to follow. The case was a quick one; Sherlock only needed the remainder of the night to present the elegant solution. They headed back to their room to sleep, a foreign concept to both men at this point. When they got back John realized he had little else to sleep in besides the red boxers and a white shirt. He quickly stripped form his clothes and then headed into his bed, rolling over he turned off the bedside table light making the room go dark. 

Sherlock sighed gratefully;he knew that his face was as red as the boxers on John’s body. 

~~~

John huffed as he lifted his suitcase onto the bed. Outside the hotel window he could see the beautiful skyline of New York City. For once, Sherlock had agreed to a full night of sleep before dashing off to see the client about his blackmail problem.

Normally Sherlock would have dismissed blackmail as ‘boring’ but this case was interesting enough to catch his eye. It involved a young man in the American Upper Class. The blackmailer didn’t want money or gifts, instead he wanted control of the company the young man was about to inherit. 

Sherlock tossed his bag onto his bed, he was about to walk into the bathroom when he stopped and spotted something read peeking out of John’s suitcase. “Boxer briefs?” he asked as he stepped back to look at them. “Really John, and in your favorite color to.” 

“Shut up!” he hissed as he shut the top of his suitcase. “They were a gag gift and thanks to your nonstop case spree I haven’t had time to wash my clothes, so these are the only clean pair I have.” Sherlock laughed as he walked into the restroom. John reopened his suitcase and laughed, it was a good gag gift from Sarah. 

They had been at lunch one day at work and she had handed him a bag. She tried so hard no to laugh when she saw John’s face as he looked in the bag. “Why?” John asked as he cocked his head to look at her. 

“After your stories of the red long johns and the red boxers? I had to. It’s too funny John.” She said covering her mouth as she tried so hard to compose herself. 

John just shook his head as he put the boxer briefs back into the bag and went to finish his lunch. He had meant to hide them in the back of the drawer when he got home, but as soon as he stepped in the door, Sherlock came running at him empty suitcase in hand, telling him to pack for New York. John had sighed when he realized he had few pairs of underwear left and looked down at Sarah’s present, suddenly a bit more grateful for it. He had hoped that he could keep the gift away from Sherlock’s prying eyes.

Clearly, it was not meant to be as currently Sherlock was coming out of the bathroom still laughing 

“Laugh all you want Sherlock. No one can see me in these bloody things but you.” John explained to him as he put his clothes into a drawer. 

Sherlock nodded as he stripped off his coat and sat down on his bed. Though he was scrolling through John’s computer for information on the case his mind kept thinking about the red boxer briefs. 

Thankfully the following day the case was able to distract Sherlock long enough to chase one of the suspect through Upper Manhattan. They were able to corner him as a clap of thunder echoed through the sky before the rain began to pour on them. As the man tried to make his getaway John tackled him in a large puddle. 

The suspect fought John desperately holding John’s face in the deep puddle until Sherlock effectively kicked him off restraining the culprit until the NYPD arrived up. John insisted on going back to the hotel for a shower before running off to find the remaining suspect. 

John had just gotten out of the warm shower, his underpants dry enough to put them on under his jeans. John was pulling up the red boxer briefs when Sherlock burst through the door. His nose was buried in his phone, “John! The suspect let NYPD know where his accomplice is hiding. We have to go-” Sherlock looked up at John and stopped talking.

John blushed as he yelled. “Sherlock!” He was hunched over as he attempted to get his underwear pulled up. “Bloody hell, knock before you enter! This isn’t the army barracks! I’ll be done in a second!” 

“Sorry….” Sherlock said almost to himself but he gazed into John’s blue/grey eyes. “I’ll, um give you a moment,” he said as he turned and shut the bathroom door behind him. 

John knew he should be more embarrassed than he was, but just tried to ignore the incident altogether. Once John pulled his underwear on, along with his jeans and jumper, he headed out of the bathroom. It was only as he was slipping on his shoes and coat that John realized that Sherlock had turned about as red as the shade of his boxer briefs. 

The case wrapped quickly, and they were on a plan back home in no time. But John couldn’t push the incident from his mind. 

Neither could Sherlock for that matter. 

~~~

A few weeks later, Sherlock took a case of theft at the Louvre. Again, it was a case John would think Sherlock found boring. But unlike normal thieves who would have stolen the art, these thieves took the security system. Sherlock practically jumped at the ingenuity. 

After Sherlock apprehended the thieves, the curator treated both him and John to a nice dinner. John was enjoying himself while Sherlock picked at his food (which John would much rather have than Sherlock sitting there with no food at all.) when suddenly a waiter tripped and John found himself with a lapful of red wine. 

John held his tongue as he stood up. Sherlock stood up as well and excused them both to head to the restroom. When they got in John let out a cry of anger and then grabbed a handful of paper towels to try and dry the growing stain on his trousers. His new trousers none the less. “I swear there has to be a hex on me,” he said blotting his trousers desperately. 

“Your trousers are soiled John.” Sherlock told him as he cocked his head to examine the stain. 

“Yes, I can see that Sherlock,” John told him as he tossed the paper towels into the waste basket. “I’m not going back out there to sit in trousers with wine all over the crotch. Not to mention it soaked down to my pants.”

Sherlock tried not to snicker for he knew John was a tad embarrassed about the event that occurred. “John, it’s nothing to worry about.” Sherlock told him as he pulled out his mobile. 

“What are you doing?” he asked him as he looked at Sherlock. 

“Acquiring some new trousers for you. Unless you wish to walk about half naked.” 

John bit back his anger. Letting out a deep sigh he began to speak slowly. “Sherlock, even if you got me new trousers, and I don’t want to know how you would, I couldn’t wear them. Remember I’m soaked down to my pants.” 

Sherlock looked up from his phone, studying John for a few seconds before he shrugged off his coat. “We will leave then. You can take a shower while I grab you a new pair pants and trousers. I know these were your last pair.” 

John blushed as he took the coat. “I don’t want to know how you know that either.” He slipped on Sherlock’s coat. It was too long in both arm’s length and too slim for him to fully button. Walking back to the table, John and Sherlock thanked the curator for the dinner. Sherlock grabbed the takeaway boxes and he and John headed back to their hotel room. 

When they arrived back into their room. John stripped off Sherlock’s coat, set it on the bed and headed into the restroom. He stripped off his clothes, slipped on his dressing gown, and set the ruined trousers on a chair. He put the rest of his cloths into a pile on his bed. Once he got back into the bathroom John turned the tap and waited for the water warm up. Slipping off his dressing gown John got in, pulled the shower curtain and relaxed under the pleasant deluge of warm water against his body. 

Finishing up he turned the tap off just in time to hear the door open and then close again. Pocking his head out of the shower (the last thing he needed was to have another run in with Sherlock,) he exited. 

He was greeted by a white shirt and a single pair of red pants. 

There were no trousers. 

“Um, Sherlock.” John said as he grabbed his towel. Wrapping it around his lower body, he opened up the door and stuck his head out. “Where are my trousers?” 

“Couldn’t get another pair in your size, so I sent them to be cleaned by the hotel. They will be done tomorrow.” explained Sherlock. 

John narrowed his eyes as he pressed his lips together. Taking a deep breath he continued talking to the stubborn detective. “What about my jeans and pajama bottoms?” 

“Oh, I had those washed as well. The red wine dripped on to them while I was taking them to be washed,” Sherlock explained as he kept his eyes glued on his mobile screen. 

“So, all I have is… what is in there?” John asked as he turned to look back at his clothing options sitting on the counter dismayed.

“Yes.” Sherlock said holding his phone up higher so to hide the smile that was spreading across his face. 

John sighed as he walked back into the bathroom. Slowly he slipped on the white shirt and the red pants. Walking back out Sherlock had changed from his clothes into his pajamas as well. “Why red?” John asked. 

Sherlock shrugged as John walked out and stood at the foot of his bed and stared Sherlock in the eye. “No, there is always something behind all that you do. You are Sherlock Holmes; things are never as simple as a shrug with you.” 

Standing up Sherlock went to go plug in his mobile. He was having a tough time keeping his eyes away from the red pants. “You are aesthetically pleasing in red.” He explained as John blushed. 

“But why do you care? It’s not like anyone will see me in my new red pants.” 

“Because,” Sherlock said as he walked over by John. “You are aesthetically pleasing to me.” Sherlock seemed as shocked to blurt out the words as John was shocked to hear them. 

John nodded his head. “So all this was…” 

“Not at first, no.” admitted Sherlock. “But then it turned into that.” His gaze met the floor. “Are you upset?” 

“No.” 

John watched Sherlock’s face flash with surprise before he masked it. “But all evidence points to you being a strict heterosexual, the multiple girlfriends, the porn on our computer, the-” Sherlock was abruptly cutoff. 

By John’s lips. 

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide as he his cupid bow lips pressed up against John’s. His long slim hands moved from the side of his body to John’s hips as he pulled him close. John soon pulled away and looked at Sherlock. He felt his face flush red and he began to regret what he did. Perhaps it was the wrong step. Sherlock looked like a deer in headlights. 

“I’m sorry. I just thought-” John began to talk but this it was Sherlock who cut him off with a kiss. The taller man then proceeded to push John against the wall. Their lips pressed firmly against each others. 

Only one of the two beds was used that evening. 

After their night in Paris, John and Sherlock decided to extend their travels a few days. Sherlock knew John wanted a break from the month long case spree and Sherlock wanted to experiment to see at how many tourist traps he could get away with shagging John. 

~~~

When they finally returned to 221B the first thing John did was run a load of laundry while Sherlock ran to Bart’s to check on the experiments he started before heading off to Paris. 

John was just folding up the last load when he heard the door bang open and close. He ran up the steps with the basket but there was no Sherlock in sight. Sighing he headed up the other flight of steps to put his laundry away. As he came back down he found Sherlock lounging on the couch in nothing but his pants. 

John didn’t ask about the experiment for that was a moot point. What he wanted to know was where Sherlock got the pants he was wearing as well as why he was wearing them, and nothing else. John opened his mouth to speak when he heard Sherlock speak first. “Is everything okay John?” 

John walked into the living room. “Why a bee?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. 

Sherlock shrugged. “Bees are interesting.” He closed his eyes again only to open them up a few minutes later when he felt the couch dip by his feet and suddenly he found himself with an arm full of a mostly naked John. 

All he was wearing were his red pants. 

Sherlock smiled as he looked down at John. They lazily snogged for a while, things not getting to heated and eventually John went to sleep, acting as a human blanket to Sherlock. Looking down at John’s blond head, Sherlock kissed it briefly before becoming lost in thought. Before long he, too, fell asleep. 

Mrs. Hudson walked in on them and at first she blushed at the compromising position before realizing they were asleep. Walking over she picked up a blanket and laid it on top of the sleeping boys. She would ask them her question when they woke up and she needed to break up some row they would be having. As she descended the stairs she shook her head and muttered, “Really John… red?”


End file.
